Strange Days
by D. melanogaster
Summary: Out of all the bad days Ginny had that summer, a few were particularly memorable. Set right after Deathly Hallows.
1. Day 1: Timmy

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing JKR's wonderful characters.**

**Day 1 – Timmy**

Two weeks after the fall of Voldemort, some people still hadn't quite lost the permanent smiles that came with the overwhelming relief of no longer living under oppression. Then again, some people had lost far too much to still feel like smiling, and still some were starting to recover from their losses and beginning to feel the elation and relief. As a direct consequence of that, the Leaky Cauldron was packed – there were those who were there to celebrate, possibly for the fifteenth night in a row, judging by the look of a few of them, and then there were those who were drowning their sorrows.

Winning a war wasn't quite as gratifying as the word "winning" would imply, Ginny Weasley surmised as she brushed the soot off her robes by the fireplace and took in one particularly sorrowful man in the darkest corner. And the winners weren't always all that graceful, either, as evidenced by the new, large plaque on the wall behind the counter, where the words "We do not serve Death Eaters" were emblazoned.

Ginny knew from having witnessed it earlier that Death Eater had become a versatile term; anyone associated with a Voldemort supporter was automatically branded "one of them". Even as much as showing kindness to the wrong person would, with the wrong bystanders, earn you a proper hexing and prompt shunning. The previously oppressed were eager to do some oppressing in their turn; revenge was tempting.

Shaking her head, Ginny dodged and elbowed her way out of the crowded pub – she hadn't come to London to ogle the patrons of the pub, and these days, it was better to get a move on before someone recognised her.

She didn't quite know how it had happened, but she had garnered some publicity – the stories of her undertakings as a leader of the DA had spread quickly in Hogwarts, and the students had told their families, and then there was the Daily Prophet that was showing a lot of interest in her, mostly because she was Harry Potter's girlfriend and Harry Potter was the most celebrated man in the world at the moment.

The Diagon Alley hadn't reached its former glory yet. People weren't in a hurry to get off the street anymore, and the frightened atmosphere had vanished, but several stores were still boarded up. Those that weren't had signs that announced Death Eaters or their supporters were not welcome there.

The shop Ginny was headed to was not boarded up, but it wasn't open for business, either. Ginny was slightly pleased to notice there was no sign in the window: Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was not partaking in the vengeful manhunt.

She didn't bother knocking; George was expecting her. She unlocked the door with a spell and strode in, taking the stairs two at a time on her way up to get rid of her excess energy.

"George, it's me! Where do you want to start?" Good. She didn't sound nervous or hesitant. She didn't want to be nervous or hesitant, but she hadn't spent any time alone with George since Fred had died, and even though she had instantly agreed to help him fix up the shop when he had asked, she couldn't help but hope that this would be a good day.

George hadn't had many good days in the past fortnight. Not that anyone else in the family was doing cartwheels, but George was understandably particularly depressed – or had been until a heart-to-heart with Harry, at least. The conversation had ended with both gits drunk out of their minds, singing "Weasley is our king" in the backyard of the Burrow at three in the morning. Ron, who had been downstairs, apparently anticipating just this, had herded them inside before their mother had woken up. Molly Weasley's sleep had not come easy.

Ginny had a good guess of what the subject had been, but she didn't know the particulars of the conversation. The next day, both Harry and George had had awful hangovers, but their spirits seemed a little cheered. Harry had visited Teddy Lupin and Andromeda Tonks for the first time – after taking a long shower and thoroughly brushing his teeth, of course; Merlin knows Andromeda wouldn't have let him in if he'd shown up on her doorstep reeking of Firewhiskey.

George had confessed to her and their scandalized mother that he was responsible for the drinking and corrupting their ickle Harrykins. He hadn't thought he would be up to the talk completely sober. When Molly had asked what they'd talked about, George had made the first joke Ginny had heard him crack in weeks. "I gave him relationship advice," he'd said dryly, with a quick wink to his sister. He'd gone on to ask her to help with the shop, and now, three days later, here she was. And he was nowhere to be seen.

"George?" she called again, peaking around the corner to her brother's bedroom, only to find him right behind that corner, jumping to the living room, right in front of her. "Bloody Hell, couldn't you have just said hello?"

"Hullo," George said with a grin that faded quickly as he looked around. "Where's Ron?"

"Ron?" Ginny repeated, puzzled. She hadn't realised Ron was supposed to come.

"Or Harry? Or Perce? Anyone?" asked George, much too serious for her liking. For a moment, this had seemed like a good day.

"Was this supposed to be a group effort? I don't think they knew that," Ginny replied, even more confused.

"You really got here alone?" And now Ginny saw where the interrogation was headed. She would have expected this from her mother or Percy, or her father. Never did she think she'd be lectured by George.

"Yes," she replied curtly. "George, even the Death Eaters that escaped aren't going to attack me in the middle of the day in Diagon Alley. Haven't you looked around? They aren't welcome here."

"Gin-Gin," George started condescendingly, and Ginny already hated whatever it was he was about to say. "You are Harry Potter's girlfriend. You were the pretty face of the rebellion in Hogwarts. You're a celebrity now, and a hero to half the people out there."

"They're hardly going to attack me for that," argued Ginny.

"Ask Harry, he might disagree," said George with a snort, and then went on seriously: "They could corner you. Ask for your autograph or tell you how you saved their sweetheart from a torture session detention, and around here, right now, most of them are drunk and wouldn't take no for an answer. And you can't even Disapparate to get away."

"All right, I'm sorry," said Ginny. She didn't mean it, not really – she had fought for her right to go where she wanted when she wanted, and she was going to exercise that right, but she knew this was a fight she wasn't going to win. And she still wasn't sure if this was a good day or not.

"Where was everyone when you left? You must've used the Floo, how'd they just let you go off alone?" asked George, and Ginny shrugged.

"Ron was just going somewhere with Hermione, Harry's with Teddy and Andromeda, Mum's cooking, and everyone else is at work," she listed off. "Everyone knows I'm here. And you were expecting me. And I didn't get cornered on my way in."

George stared at her for a moment, then he shrugged.

"This time," he added, leading the way downstairs. "I'm coming to the Burrow with you later."

x-x

Ginny scrubbed floors and windows, and dusted and restocked shelves. George fixed the vandalised façade of the shop before joining her. They put no sign on the window, other than the one that advertised the reopening of the store.

The sun was setting by the time they were done, and while Ginny was exhausted, she was also filled with a sense of accomplishment. George was looking around the shop with a strange smile on his face – Ginny had never seen that one before; half proud, half sad, it belayed exactly what he was thinking.

"Well, I think we're all set for tomorrow. Verity's coming at half past seven, we open at nine. It should be on the front page of the Prophet and the Quibbler, too," he muttered, almost too low for Ginny to hear.

"Ginny? Thanks for the help. I couldn't have done it alone," he spoke up, and Ginny smiled.

"You're welcome. This was the best day I've had this week," she told him honestly. The distraction and the manual labour had been very welcome indeed – maybe tonight, she'd finally sleep well.

"Really?" George seemed surprised. At Ginny's nod, he burst out laughing. "Bloody hell, I need to have another talk with Harry. We'll need a lot more whiskey for that."

"He's doing a good job on his own, thank you very much," said Ginny, exaggerating a haughty, prim manner. George laughed louder.

"C'mon, let's get to the Burrow," he said once he calmed down, still chuckling. "We might still make it in time for dinner. And even if we're not, there'll be plenty of leftovers."

They locked up the shop, and spent a moment admiring the newly cleaned front before starting the stroll towards the Leaky Cauldron. They didn't get far before a commotion in the corner of Knocturn Alley drew their attention, and they stopped in their tracks.

There were three men huddled around something, Ginny couldn't quite see what, but they were clearly angry. It quickly became clear the something was a person – one of the men shoved him against a wall, and Ginny realised with a jolt that he was just a boy, around ten years old.

"Oi!" Ginny called out first, but George was already running to the men.

"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" he asked, his tones cheerful but his posture tense. His right hand was behind his back, firmly gripping his wand – Ginny, when she reached them, didn't bother hiding hers. She recognised one of the men as the sorrowful man from the Leaky Cauldron.

"This little sneak's the problem," slurred the brawniest of the men. Red-faced and swaying slightly, he was clearly drunk. "Lurkin' on Knocturn Alley. 'S no good."

One of the men muttered something about Death Eaters, and Ginny lost the little control she had had over her temper.

"And how old is this dangerous Death Eater of yours? Eight years old?" she asked icily. The men just stared at her blankly.

"I'm ten!" An indignant voice next to the wall turned all eyes towards the boy.

"Are you all right?" asked George, deciding that this was clearly the priority. The boy nodded, timid now that all the attention was on him again.

"What's your name?" George went on, still speaking cheerfully. Ginny reckoned that since he was the one who owned a joke shop, he was more likely to be good around children than she was, and she just stood aside, keeping an eye on the drunken trio.

"Tim," the boy said clearly, and George gave him a grin.

"Nice to meet you, Tim. I'm George, and this is my sister, Ginny. What're you doing here, all alone, this late?" he asked, and Tim shrugged.

"My mum's shopping. That store," Tim pointed at the Apothecary, "wouldn't let her in, so she had to go there," and now Tim gestured to Knockturn Alley, "but she said I can't go there, so I was going to look at the joke shop. It'll be open tomorrow."

"I know, I own it," said George, his grin even wider. Tim's eyes widened in awe.

"See? Death Eaters shop there," slurred the brawny man, and Ginny had had it.

"Enough!" Her shout startled everyone, even George. "Have you not had _enough _fighting? What comes next? Are you going to insist the Ministry should start checking out family trees and connections to see who's a Death Eater or a supporter and cart everyone who can't prove their innocence right into Azkaban? The senseless manhunts _just _stopped!"

And in a move surprisingly fast for such a brawny, drunk man, the mouthiest bloke had Ginny pinned to the wall by her throat.

"Hey! Let go of my sister!" George's wand was at the man's temple, but he paid it no heed.

"Are you defending the Death Eater's brat, Jenny?" His breath was on her face, and it was disgusting – Firewhiskey had just become Ginny's least favourite drink ever.

"It's _Ginny _Weasley, and you should have left that boy alone," she choked out. And before her name registered in any of the trio's drunken brains, the bloke in front of her had flying bogeys coming out of his nostrils and attacking his face.

Ginny and George had the three men immobilised before they could run away, and then they turned back to Tim.

"Tim, will you be in Diagon Alley tomorrow?" asked George, again so cheerful that if Ginny hadn't known he was acting, she would have thought he had a personality disorder. Tim shook his head, timid again. "You're going to miss the reopening of my shop. We can't have that, can we? How would you like a tour right now?"

Tim looked cautiously hopeful, and the doubt still lingering broke Ginny's heart. He was ten years old, and he was being offered a private tour of a joke shop. He should have been ecstatic.

"Really?" he asked, and George nodded.

"Really. Here's what we'll do; Ginny will take you to the shop, and show you around. And anything you want, you can take with you, for free," he said. Now Tim was grinning. "I'll go get your mum. You said she tried to go to the Apothecary first?"

Tim nodded, and George took off jogging, leaving Ginny alone with the boy.

"So, Tim, have you ever been to the shop before?" she asked to make conversation on the way. Apparently it was the right question to ask – Tim started talking about his previous visits, and he was clearly quite the fan.

Ginny wondered whether George's promise to give Tim anything he wanted for free was a very good idea, because Tim apparently knew every product ever manufactured and he wanted some of everything. They had an arrangement; Tim would pick what he wanted and Ginny would hold it, and she was about to say she couldn't possibly hold anything more when a frantic woman ran up to the shop and right in.

"Is Timmy here?" She couldn't see her son behind Ginny and everything she was holding, and Ginny gave her what she hoped was a comforting smile.

"He's right here. Tim? It's your mum," she said, and Tim bounced to her mother's arms. He was much too excited to hold still.

"Mum, guess what! George said I could have anything I wanted!" And George's diversionary tactics had worked. Obviously Tim hadn't been all that traumatised.

"And he's got quite the lot in here," joked Ginny. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Yes, thank you," the woman said, eyeing the pile on Ginny's arms suspiciously.

"I'll get a bag for this," Ginny said, going to the counter and packing everything up. It took four bags, and she tried not to listen to Timmy's mother fussing over him while she packed. Clearly George had given the poor woman a fright when he had explained things.

"Here you go," Ginny announced, right before the door burst open again. This time, she was surprised – she hadn't been expecting anyone, and she almost dropped the bags before she realised it was Harry.

"Oh, er… Hi?" Ginny couldn't hold back her laugh at Harry's awkward greeting to Tim and his mother, who were staring at him, half in fright and half in awe. He didn't need to be introduced, it seemed, not that that was a shock. "George told me what happened and I was just coming to make sure you're all right."

"You're Harry Potter," stated Tim, and this got a chuckle out of Harry.

"I know. You must be Tim," he said, and offered his hand for the little boy. Tim took it, and shook it vigorously. "Did you get everything you wanted?"

Tim nodded, and if Ginny hadn't just listened to his chatter for almost twenty minutes, she would have called him shy.

"Thank you so much for everything," Tim's mother said, "but we really must be going. It's getting dark outside already."

"Of course. Don't forget these!" Ginny said, smiling as she handed the bags to the other woman. "It was nice to meet you, Tim. Next time you're in Diagon Alley, don't hesitate to come knocking even if the shop's closed."

Tim waved cheerfully as his nervous mother steered him out towards the Leaky Cauldron. The minute they were out of sight, Ginny sighed. She could feel her shoulders sagging, and she didn't stop it – she didn't much care if she was standing up straight.

"_Are _you all right?" asked Harry, and Ginny let out a hysterical peal of laughter.

"I was fine. How much does a man need to drink before he wants to attack a ten-year-old?" she asked, shaking her head. Harry didn't respond, and he didn't need to. "And it was such a good day, too."


	2. Day 2: Ron

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter still belongs to JKR.**

**Day 2 – Ron**

Some of the strangest things Ginny noticed that summer were the coping methods. It seemed everyone was retreating to a comforting activity, and among the Weasleys and honorary Weasleys, the activities were greatly varied.

Molly cooked. During the first week or so, even when everyone in the family was staying in the Burrow, she cooked enough that there was twice more food than they could ever eat. Ginny didn't know why her mother did that – maybe it was a way for her to let out some excessive energy, or maybe she liked having clear beginnings and endings and knowing exactly what to do in between. Perhaps it was a way for her to take care of her children or to bring the entire family together; Merlin knows none of them would miss dinner when most of them hadn't eaten that well in months.

Ginny didn't know her reasons, but the effects were clear – their mother was somewhat consoled by having her entire family around her each night and getting the chance to fuss over each of them, and slowly, she was starting to cry less and smile more.

Hermione had gone back to her beloved books, and Ginny knew precisely why. Hermione had said it herself that the distractions brought by complex numerology problems or transformation laws always managed to clear her mind of everything else. When she was doing her calculations or concentrating on reading, she didn't remember being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange or what it felt like to believe that Harry was dead. She was just solving the problems.

Arthur, when he wasn't working, was tinkering in his shed with a vigour Ginny hadn't seen since the flying car. Charlie flew a lot, and usually organised a Quidditch game in the paddock around dinnertime. Bill made it a point to spend time with all his siblings, perhaps because he was already planning a trip to Egypt to visit some friends.

George had dedicated himself entirely to his shop. He spent his days entertaining customers and his nights cooking up new products, and the only times he really left the shop were when he'd come to the Burrow for dinner. So far, that had been every night.

Percy seemed to be at odds. The comforting activity he had always reverted to had been his work, first schoolwork and later his job, but after what had happened to Fred, the job had lost most of its appeal. He still worked for the Ministry, but either his priorities had shifted or he felt tremendously guilty, for he, too, spent all his spare time back home. He was trying his hardest to make amends for his absence, and Ginny knew it would be a while before he was done. They had forgiven him by now, but he was nowhere near forgiving himself yet.

Ron seemed somewhat content most of the time. He was unfailingly present at all mealtimes, and the rest of the time he could usually be found either with Hermione, Harry or playing Quidditch. He was obviously happy that he could finally call Hermione his girlfriend, and he was taking full advantage of it. Some things still were how they used to be, though; the pair had not stopped bickering.

Yes, most of the time, Ron seemed happy, but there were moments when he'd get a certain look on his face that Ginny really hadn't seen before. He'd become subdued and serious, and no matter the time of day, he'd usually get his broom and go for a fly.

When Ginny started to feel overwhelmed, her preferred method of breaking her tension was to exercise her newfound freedom and leave the Burrow. Whether it was just taking a walk to visit Luna, going to the village or using the Floo to go to George's, being able to just come and go as she pleased felt spectacular. The only problem was that after what had happened in Diagon Alley with Timmy and the following momentary panic among the family, she had promised she wouldn't go to London by herself before George's fireplace had been fixed. And somehow, in the mind of her mother, that had been a promise not to go anywhere alone.

That was how, a week after the Timmy episode, Ginny was sitting in the kitchen of the Burrow, silently fuming. She had been cleaning her room due to her mother's insistence, and had found an old note from Fred. He'd nicked her favourite quill from her room and written the note so that she'd know he had it and he fully intended to return it. She had got the quill back, but reading the note again now, she wished she could get her brother back instead.

The walls of the Burrow had started to feel suffocating, and Ginny had tried to leave, only to be stopped by her mother who insisted that as long as she was alone, she wasn't going anywhere. And now it looked like Ginny would be alone for quite a while.

Ron and Hermione were spending quality time together somewhere. Charlie was visiting a few old friends. Bill and Fleur were at Shell Cottage, Percy, George and their father were working, and Harry had been gone since the morning because Andromeda Tonks had needed a babysitter for Teddy.

Ginny suspected her mother didn't trust her to stay in the garden – or that was the conclusion she drew when Molly told her to sort the mail. In the kitchen, of course, where she could be properly supervised.

Sorting the mail had become quite the chore. Letters for Harry were piling up faster than he could read them, but that wasn't all; Ron and Hermione were getting their fair share as well, and so was Ginny; the only difference was she knew the vast majority of the people who wrote to her. The task was a little easier now that George was staying in Diagon Alley because first with the shop and then with Potterwatch, he had garnered a lot of positive attention and fans of his own.

Ginny wasn't sure what everyone did with the letters. She read them all, but she knew the people they were from; new DA recruits, the original members, and some people who hadn't been directly involved but whose support had been invaluable. They were her friends, letting her know how they were doing, and she appreciated it and tried to return the favour.

Hermione opened all of hers, as well. She didn't always like what was inside, but Ginny had seen her replying to several letters. Ron threw some out without opening them; Ginny knew her brother, and she was certain that there was some logic behind it, she just hadn't quite figured it out yet.

Harry threw some of his away, too, but the reason for that was much easier to see. Not all his mail was letters from grateful witches and wizards; not everyone looked up to him and even among those who did, there were people who just wanted to benefit from his popularity. Harry would have none of that; he wouldn't go seeking any more time in the spotlight in the foreseeable future. Some of the days Harry and Ginny had spent together had gone by sorting his mail – it wasn't all that romantic or exciting, but they had both had enough excitement for a while, and it could be fun. Some of his fans were highly amusing if you didn't take them too seriously.

With the time it took to actually go through them, no one expected Harry to reply to every letter he got. And he hadn't. As far as Ginny knew, he had written exactly two responses so far, one to Dennis Creevey, and one to a forty-something witch neither Harry nor Ginny had ever met. Ginny didn't know much about the correspondence; she hadn't read the letters of Dennis or the witch, and she hadn't asked Harry what they were about. She reckoned that, as with everything else, he would tell her when he was ready. As long as Harry was willing to extend the same courtesy to her, she wouldn't pry.

Ginny's tedious job of sorting envelopes into piles was interrupted when she heard a whoosh of the fireplace that came with someone using the Floo – someone was home. All her thoughts on escaping the Burrow, Ginny stood up so fast she knocked a few of the piles over; she hastily righted them and grabbed the stack addressed to her before rushing into the living room.

It didn't matter to her who had arrived. At this point, had it been the Minister for Magic, she would have dragged him to Ottery St. Catchpole with her, just so that she could go.

Of course, it wasn't the Minister. It was Ron. He was alone, and that was enough to stop Ginny in her tracks for a moment.

"Where's Hermione?" she asked, instead of greeting her brother, but he didn't mind.

"With her parents," he replied with a shrug and a pleased smile. Hermione's relationship with her parents was rocky these days. After she had gone to get them from Australia with Ron and given them their memories back, it seemed they couldn't quite decide whether they were mostly just angry because their daughter had used such invasive magic on them against their will, upset because there had been a war she had been involved in and they hadn't known about, or relieved because she was all right and it was over now.

Apparently, the Granger family was making amends now.

"Oh. That sounds promising. Take a walk with me?" Ginny suggested, and Ron's gaze shifted towards the kitchen.

"Mum's still not letting you go alone, then?" he asked, and Ginny rolled her eyes in response. "C'mon. You look like you're going round the bend."

"Thanks," Ginny said wryly, leading the way out. Behind her, Ron called out a greeting and a goodbye to their mum, and from amidst the incessant clanking of pots and pans from the kitchen, a "be careful" could be heard.

"So, where to?" asked Ron, and it was Ginny's turn to shrug. It didn't really matter to her, as long as she just got away. They picked a well-worn path leading out the garden, and by the time the little noises from the Burrow could no longer be heard, Ginny was already breathing easier.

"What's the occasion?" It was Ron's way of asking her what was bothering her. It was more implicit than what most others would use, and she knew he wasn't going to demand a response. Even though she had been at the point where anyone would have been good enough company, she was glad Ron had been the first to get back.

"The usual." There was no need for further dissertation.

"So how long d'you think it'll be before Mum's going to let you out of the house without a chaperone?" Ron restarted conversation again a few moments later, and Ginny had to laugh a little at that. It wasn't out of genuine amusement.

"You think it'll ever happen?" she replied, and Ron chuckled.

"Maybe you should get Harry to have a chat with her. It worked on George. And Mrs Tonks," he suggested, and Ginny snorted.

"I'd have to convince Harry to let me out alone first. It might be easier to reason with Mum," she said, fighting the urge to roll her eyes again.

"I think he'd be easily convinced," grinned Ron. "It'd only take a hex or two."

"You know you're a git, right? He's your friend, you can't tell people to hex him!" Ginny couldn't keep a straight face while saying it, as she had already considered it herself. It was a good idea, if he pushed her too far.

"As if you'd never told Hermione to hex me," he muttered, and now Ginny laughed out loud.

"There's never been a need. She usually does it fine all by herself," she teased, and Ron just shook his head.

"Can we stop here? I think we've gone far enough," Ginny said after a moment when she spotted a fallen tree trunk they could sit on. Ron opted to sit on the grass in front of the tree and lean back on it, so he could take a little nap while Ginny read the greetings from her friends.

The first few letters were nothing out of the ordinary, but number six threw her off.

"What the…?" She wasn't even aware of voicing the unfinished thought, but Ron was immediately alert when her tones registered.

Before the end of the first sentence, she knew the letter wasn't meant for her, but she couldn't stop reading. By the second paragraph, her eyes were stinging, and when she was done, she was so angry her hands were shaking.

"What is it?" asked Ron warily, and Ginny handed him the letter.

"It's for Harry. I must've taken it by accident when I was leaving. It wasn't one of those that he throws away," she said. Ron didn't look too surprised when he went over the contents.

"Yeah, I've seen a few just like this. He reads them all," he said with a shrug. "Said he agrees. And I suppose I do, too."

"_What?_" Ginny couldn't believe her ears. "Did you even read that? The part where she said she wishes Harry had died months ago? You _agree?_"

"What? No! That's not what I meant," retorted Ron, sitting up straighter.

"Then what did you mean?" Ron had known her long enough to be able to tell that she was about three seconds away from a generous outburst of anger, especially with the short fuse she had after her earlier scrape with a nervous breakdown.

"The way I read it – and the way Harry sees it – she doesn't wish he was dead. She's lost someone and she wishes she hadn't, and she wonders what would have happened if things had gone a little different. Don't tell me you haven't thought of that, too."

Ginny didn't tell him, because she couldn't do so without lying. She had played that little game plenty, but she had had to stop before she drove herself insane.

"You know Harry had to go into the Forest, right?" continued Ron after a short while.

"Of course I do. If he hadn't had an explanation for it, other than just being a noble git, I don't think he'd still have all his limbs attached." It went without saying that Ginny had had a problem with Harry walking into certain death, especially after all the heavy losses they had already had that day. In fact, the first time they spoke in the aftermath, she had explicitly told him what she thought of that stunt. After telling him how proud she was of him, of course.

"You might want to tone down the threats of maiming the Chosen One. If you did that now, you'd be lynched before you even saw the angry mob coming," said Ron, and Ginny could only barely refrain from smacking him.

"Was there a point in this?" she asked, and Ron nodded.

"Don't you think he's thought of what would have happened if he'd just surrendered when Voldemort first told him to?" Hearing Ron say Voldemort still gave her a little jolt every time. He'd gone from stuttering out the name to pronouncing it with unrestrained contempt, and Ginny was still struggling to get used to it.

"The bloke can't visit his godson without thinking of a dozen new what ifs. What if he'd let Lupin come along, would Tonks have been pissed enough not to come to Hogwarts? What if he'd turned left instead of taking a right at a particular point during the battle – seriously, ask him sometimes. He's thought of about a million scenarios. Hell, we all know we were incredibly lucky we got out of the scrapes we got into, but he can't help but wonder, and he understands these people. They're just very sad and a little desperate, and they're only doing exactly what we're doing."

"He must be going crazy," muttered Ginny, shaking her head slightly. She got what Ron was saying, and it wasn't hard to see how Harry could relate to these people, but he must have been going mad. Merlin knew she had been until she had let go of the possibilities that would never come true.

"No, he's not." Ron apparently misunderstood her meaning, but she couldn't set him straight before he was talking again. "I get that, too. Bloody hell, I wonder every day if things would be different, if maybe it could have been over sooner, if I hadn't left when I did, or if I could have gone back to them sooner. Harry's not the only one who blames himself for things."

"I wasn't saying he's mad, I was saying he's going to drive himself insane if he doesn't stop doing that, and what the hell do you mean, if you hadn't _left_?" asked Ginny heatedly, and Ron grimaced.

"I wasn't even going to tell you, you know. Harry forgave me when I got back and saved his life, so he never would've said a word, and neither would Hermione, but I've been thinking that maybe you ought to know. And I reckon now's as good a time as there'll ever be," he said seriously, taking a deep breath to steel himself. Ginny thought it better not to interrupt.

"You obviously know of the Horcruxes if you know why Harry surrendered," he continued after a moment, and Ginny nodded to confirm. "So you know the diary you wrote into was one?" Another nod – that wasn't new information either, although she was still struggling to digest it.

"I don't know how you fought that thing when you were eleven. We had one of them, a locket, but we couldn't destroy it – we didn't know how. So we took turns to wear it, to keep it safe. And it was awful. I mean, our little camping trip was never that glorious, but it made all the bad things worse, and I was picking fights all the time when I had to wear it. It was bad for the others, too – Harry couldn't even do a Patronus when he had it on, and you know how good he is at that – but it was worse for me. Or I was worse at dealing with it, I dunno.

"And then, this one time, it got ugly. We heard you'd got a detention from trying to steal the sword from Snape's office, but Harry was convinced you'd be all right because the detention was with Hagrid. And of course, he had the map and he'd trace just about every step you took. I thought he was taking it too lightly. I said it was easy for him to say because his family was dead. Like I said, it was bad, and in the end I left. I wanted to go back the moment I'd Disapparated, but it took me ages to find them again."

It was silent for what felt like an hour after Ron stopped talking, because Ginny couldn't find anything to say, and Ron wouldn't say anything.

"I can't scream at you or hex you or blame you, really," she finally said, her voice now a lot more quiet than it had been earlier. "I choked roosters and Petrified people."

There was another moment of quiet when she struggled to form the words to follow. Ron still didn't dare to speak.

"I can't say it's all right, either, and I can't believe you'd walk out on Harry and Hermione like that. I know you insisted on going with him in the first place. And I think you'd be the perfect person to tell Mum I'm perfectly safe here alone, because I don't think I want to hang around you today."

With a sigh, Ron shuffled to his feet, and gave her a resigned smile.

"I knew you wouldn't like it. I'm not proud of it, and I'd undo it if I could, but you deserve to know. And don't be too hard on Harry about that letter thing. He's harsh enough on himself already," he said as he was leaving.

He only got a few paces away before Ginny's call stopped him.

"Ron?" He turned back to face her right away. "You did go back. I think that matters more."

Even though Ginny wasn't all that impressed with Ron then, something good came out of it. For one, Ron convinced Molly that it was all right for Ginny to leave the house by herself. And besides, even if Ron still got that strange, solemn expression sometimes after their little chat, he didn't get it nearly so often around her.


	3. Day 3: Harry

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter. I still kind of wish I did.**

**Day 3 – Harry**

Looking back on the past summer, Ginny would call it strange, for lack of a better word. It was without a doubt the strangest summer she had ever had – or would ever have, not that she knew it then. It was the last night before she went back to Hogwarts with Hermione, and Ron and Harry started their training to become Aurors, and perhaps it was the nostalgic feeling brought on by the last day of summer that had her reflecting on it.

She had never been as relieved as this summer, with Voldemort dead, the war over and the danger past. She had never been so happy, because she was alive and Harry was alive and they were alive _together._ She had never felt so guilty or so sad, because so many of her friends and loved ones hadn't made it, or so angry – for it wasn't fair, how much they'd lost, and the on-going manhunts for anyone even remotely suspicious, carried out by otherwise sensible people, never failed to get her hackles raised.

Now, when the worst of the madness was over, she had to wonder how she had made it with her sanity intact. She was never going to wonder that aloud, though – she could already imagine her brothers' responses to that. Then again, having their voices in her head couldn't have been good. Perhaps she had lost a marble or a few along the way somewhere.

"What was that?" Harry's voice shook her out of her reverie and _that_, Ginny decided, would be her excuse for any insanity on her part. Merlin knew just the sight of him was enough to make people do the strangest things, why should she be immune? Although, this train of thought was not going to be voiced any time soon, either.

"What was what?" she asked instead, and Harry gave her a small, crooked smile. She couldn't help but grin back, because his smile was infectious – all his smiles were, at least to her.

Yes, he had most definitely turned her brain into mush. It was almost sad.

"You were just staring at the ground and snickering." He sounded highly amused.

"I was not." The maturity of the response surprised even Ginny.

"Oh yes, you were. What was it about?"

"All right, I admit it," said Ginny dramatically. "I was thinking about you."

"And laughing? I imagine this will be very flattering for me," said Harry, chuckling, and Ginny just shook her head at him.

"Why? Of course it was. I was just thinking about you with a pygmy puff tattoo. On your forehead. See, you could get one of those, and instead of staring at your scar, everyone would look at the tattoo." How she came up with that in the two seconds she had to think, Ginny didn't know. She didn't particularly care, either, as it made Harry laugh and that was good enough for her. It wasn't always such an easy thing to do.

Yes, looking at the smiling man next to her, Ginny was further convinced it had been a brilliant idea to just pack a lunch and go out to enjoy the sunny day with her boyfriend. Of course, it had been said boyfriend's idea, but that didn't diminish the brilliance of it. They were making the most of their time together while it lasted, like Harry had told her mother to sell the idea to her, as well.

The phrasing was correct, but Ginny didn't much care for it – it implied their time was running out, and in a way it was, but of all the things she had had enough of, running out of time was number one on her list. She had run out of time with Harry before, too – when he had run off on his quest and she had gone back to Hogwarts like a good little girl. And while the circumstances had changed, there were still too many similarities for her liking.

"I think I liked the snickering better," observed Harry from his position on the ground. He was lying down next to her on the grass, and she was sitting up because she liked seeing her surroundings. They were in Hyde Park, in Muggle London, because while Harry loved his newfound freedom even more than Ginny did hers, his popularity made his freedom somewhat limited; Muggles had no idea of who he was, and they left him quite alone.

"As opposed to what?" asked Ginny, and this time the smile she got in response to her question was a little sad.

"You're frowning. I suppose you're not thinking about Pygmy Puffs anymore?" he said, and Ginny shrugged.

"No, I wasn't," she admitted, but before she could say another word, she happened to glance up towards the other people in the park, and what she saw completely halted her train of thought.

Draco Malfoy, of all people, was taking a stroll through Hyde Park.

"Is that _Malfoy_?" Ginny couldn't keep the incredulousness out of her voice – not that she really even tried.

Harry sat up, too, and turned to look. He seemed a little surprised, but not as shocked as Ginny was – he seemed more pensive than anything. And when Malfoy lifted his gaze from his shoes and saw them sitting by the path he was walking down, and halted in his tracks, Harry lifted his hand from the grass and waved.

Ginny wasn't sure which she was more baffled by – seeing a Malfoy in a Muggle place, or Harry waving hello at him.

And when Harry's gesture registered, Malfoy slowly started walking again, towards them as he had before – the only difference being that he had now realised where he was going. When he finally reached them, he stopped reluctantly, and it was obvious he was uncomfortable. It made two of them; Harry was the only one who still appeared completely relaxed.

"Hello, Malfoy," he said, and while he didn't sound particularly jovial, he wasn't openly hostile, either. In fact, Ginny was having difficulty recognising the tones.

"Potter. Weasley," replied Malfoy, nodding at them. "Enjoying your newly idle days?"

"For today. I'm starting at the Magical Law Enforcement tomorrow," Harry offered, and Malfoy shook his head slightly.

"I suppose I should have figured that's what you would do," said Malfoy, and it sounded almost friendly, until he added sardonically: "noble hero that you are."

"You won't be joining me, then?" asked Harry cheerfully, and Malfoy grimaced.

"In the Ministry? Hardly," he retorted. It was true, Ginny knew – Malfoy's money and his father's connections weren't going to buy him a job at the Ministry now. Or anywhere else, either, in the current climate, and from the look on the man's face, he knew it. Unlike Harry, Malfoy was not in Hyde Park because of his immense fame and popularity in the magical community. Not that he necessarily needed a job, with the fortune he had inherited, but having the option may have been nice.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Ron and I will just have to make do." And finally Ginny recognised the tones – Harry was gloating. He was outwardly polite, but he was practically rubbing Malfoy's nose in the fact that while the heir of the great, rich pureblood family was nearly exiled to the Muggle word, the people he used to view as substandard were thriving.

And when Ron found out about this later, aside from gleeful, he would only be sorry that he wasn't there.

"Good luck with whatever you decide to do, though," said Harry; apparently he was feeling somewhat generous. Malfoy just nodded, as if he wanted to wish the same but couldn't quite bring himself to say the words, and without any further goodbyes he continued on his way.

Harry waited until the blonde was out of earshot before he spoke again.

"I suppose it's childish, but after all the pureblood rubbish I've heard him spout over the years, I'm sort of glad to see him here," he said finally, smiling in a way that was more smug than happy.

"Only sort of?" asked Ginny. She couldn't help herself; even though she was against the paranoia about potential former Death Eaters, she had never been even remotely fond of the Malfoys, especially after Riddle's diary. Any time her conscience would pipe up and tell her she shouldn't really be happy about other people's misfortunes, it would be ruthlessly squashed by the part of her that was still struggling to come to terms with the recent revelation that she had been possessed by a part of Voldemort's soul, instead of a mere memory.

Harry just laughed and shook his head a little. Ginny didn't push him more than that – she was talking to the bloke who had offered Voldemort a chance for remorse, after all. Perhaps sort of vindictive was the best he could do; he couldn't be the best at everything.

"What were you going to say earlier?" He was going to push her, apparently.

"About why I was frowning?" asked Ginny, to stall for a moment. Harry just nodded. "Malfoy had good timing – it was actually about him, in a way."

Now Harry was frowning, too.

"You were thinking about Malfoy?" That certainly knocked the smugness right out of him.

"Well, no. I was thinking about going back to Hogwarts. About whether it's going to be different than before – I mean, I know more of what to expect this year, at least, but still, I don't think it'll be like it used to be," Ginny explained, and Harry was nodding along.

"Yeah. You'll be in the same year as Hermione," he said, and now it was Ginny's turn to nod.

"Yeah, that'll probably be the only nice change. I was thinking more of what happened the last time I was there. I can just imagine the first time back in the Great Hall," she replied with a shudder.

"That's one of the reasons I considered going back for NEWTs," said Harry quietly. "Hogwarts used to be my home, and I have more good memories from the castle than any place else, but it's easier to forget them than the bad ones. Maybe it would be better to make new ones?"

And even though Harry didn't say it out loud, Ginny knew he had plenty of recent bad memories from Hogwarts, from Dumbledore's death to his own, and the despair in between. And as Ginny knew first hand, even the good memories easily turned bittersweet when you looked back at them and knew what had happened later.

"It probably is. It's going to be bloody hard at first, though," she said with a small sigh. Classes alone were going to be heart wrenching, at least for a while.

"You'll have Hermione there, though. If nothing else, she'll know the best self-help books in the library," said Harry, in a last ditch effort to lighten up the conversation a little, and it worked; Ginny couldn't help but laugh.

"That is true," she acknowledged, then took in Harry's wistful expression and realised this was the second time in the relatively short conversation that he had mentioned Hermione.

"You're going to miss her." Ginny didn't need to ask, she already knew he would.

"Yeah. I'm half convinced they'll kick Ron and me out before the first week is over because she won't be there to help us with our homework," said Harry with a snort. Again, Ginny didn't need to ask who "they" were – Harry was nervous.

"I can't really picture that happening," said Ginny, laughing again. Laughing at his concerns may not have made her come across as the most understanding girlfriend, but she couldn't quite wrap her mind around Harry's lack of confidence. She burst into giggles when she realised he was sulking – he was trying to hide it, but she knew him well enough to be able to tell.

"Harry, I don't mean to be mean, but can you truly not see it from my point of view? You defeated Voldemort. You, Ron and Hermione hunted down his Horcruxes and destroyed them in a year, when even Dumbledore had spent more time on it. I know you worry they're only taking you in because you're the Boy Who Lived and all, but they only know of the part where you fought him at Hogwarts. If they knew the rest of the story, they would have insisted you join instantly," she said, growing more serious as she went. Everything she said was true – even though to her, Harry was more than just the man who had defeated Voldemort, she still sometimes found it unbelievable that he could have done all that he had.

Even if he had technically had help doing it.

"It's different," said Harry, almost ashamed, and Ginny knew how fortunate she was to be listening to this at all. Aside from her, Harry would have told this only to Ron and Hermione, if even them. He was a private person at heart, and this was an uncomfortable enough subject that he would only ever discuss it with very few people. "Like you said, I had help, and I could understand Voldemort. Bloody hell, I could see what was going through his head half the time – I'm not going to have that advantage again."

"I don't think you'd ever want to have that advantage again," Ginny pointed out, and Harry had to agree. "Besides, Harry, you founded the DA. I can tell you from experience that running it was ruddy hard. It took Neville, Luna and me at first, and you did it alone all along. And as for having help, Ron will be there, too, and I don't think the trainers will just throw you to the wolves. That's the beauty of having a training; they'll tell you what to do in case you don't know. Trust me, you'll be spectacular."

And with that, Ginny had used more kind and comforting words in a conversation than she ever had before. It was undoubtedly another effect this bespectacled boy had on her – just the previous night, Ron had been griping about more or less the same thing, and Ginny had just told him that he'd be fine and to quit his whinging.

Apparently, her words had an effect on Harry, too. He was _blushing_. And inside, Ginny was dancing, because not only had Harry confided in her, and not only had her faith in him humbled him enough to make him blush, it looked like she had reassured him. Not too bad for a day's work, she decided.

That day was not a bad day on Ginny's standards. It was strange, yes, what with running into Malfoy and all, and comforting, because while she was still a little apprehensive about going back to Hogwarts, she knew there was one thing that was vastly different – good different – compared to all her previous years at the school: Harry may not have been going back with her, but he would be eagerly waiting for every Hogsmeade weekend and holiday.

Because he was her boyfriend.

And how did Ginny know this? If the heart-to-heart and all the time spent together that summer hadn't been enough of a clue, dinner that night certainly was.

Because there, in full hearing range of her parents, brothers, and Andromeda Tonks, he told her he'd be waiting by the gates whenever she told him she'd be leaving the castle.

Because, like he said, he loved her and he didn't really care who knew about it.

Yes, out of all the strange days Ginny had that summer, the last one was definitely the most memorable.


End file.
